


Posessed Confessions

by Bow_of_Artemis



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Bevchie, Possession, Self-Hatred, forcibly outed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_of_Artemis/pseuds/Bow_of_Artemis
Summary: “Oh, Richie’s just fine,” a maniacal voice says. It takes a moment for Richie to realise that it came from him. He feels his legs move, making him stand, but he knows that he’s not the one controlling them. It’s a small comfort to know that his body is still able to move, that there’s no damage that he can discern; but the feeling of moving out of someone else’s will is terrifyingly dehumanising. No matter how hard he tries to move his legs, his arms, anything, he just can’t. All he can do is helplessly watch the Losers retract in fear, eyes widening with terror as they seem to come to the same realisation as Richie.Pennywise is controlling him.-or while exploring Neibolt one day, Pennywise takes control over Richie's mind forcibly spilling out his biggest secrets.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 307





	Posessed Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Canon timeline? What canon timeline? Just ignore the fact that this could never work in canon lol 
> 
> TW for outing, occasional use of the f-slur, and mentions of vomit.

The Losers were all making their way through the Neibolt house when Richie’s eyes suddenly roll back into his head and he collapses on the floor. His vision blacks out for a second and he can hear all of the Losers crowd around him, yelling his name. For a second Richie feels like he can’t pull his eyes open and in a split second of panic he thinks that he’s gone blind. However, only a few seconds later, his eyes finally open again, vision blurry and distorted. He tries to blink it away but again, he gets that weird feeling like he can’t control what his eyes are doing.

“Richie!” someone shouts, Richie thinks it’s Ben, but he can’t be sure. He feels someone grabbing his shoulders, shaking him violently. “Richie, are you ok?!”

“I think so,” he tries to say, except…he can’t speak. It’s like something has grabbed a hold of his throat, squeezing his vocal cords until no words can come out. It feels like his voice doesn’t belong to him anymore. He tries to reach up and touch his throat, but he can’t do that either. He can’t control his body, it’s like he’s completely paralyzed. His vision is finally clearing, and he can see all the Losers peering at him with terrified expressions. He desperately wants to call out to them, to tell them that he’s alright, or at least tell them that his mind is still alive. He tries to scream but he’s helpless, trapped inside his own mind. He’s convinced that he’s been rendered mute and motionless until…

“Oh, Richie’s just fine,” a maniacal voice says. It takes a moment for Richie to realise that it came from him. He feels his legs move, making him stand, but he knows that he’s not the one controlling them. It’s a small comfort to know that his body is still able to move, that there’s no damage that he can discern; but the feeling of moving out of someone else’s will is terrifyingly dehumanising. No matter how hard he tries to move his legs, his arms, anything, he just can’t. All he can do is helplessly watch the Losers retract in fear, eyes widening with terror as they seem to come to the same realisation as Richie.

Pennywise is controlling him.

Richie doesn’t know how or why or even if he’s going to be alright. All he knows is that there is nothing he can do to stop it.

“Richie, if you can hear us please, talk to us!” Mike pleads desperately but no matter how hard Richie fights, he just can’t reach out. He can’t take back control over his own body. For god sakes he can’t even make himself _blink_.

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to talk to Richie,” Richie hears himself says in a voice that’s most definitely not his own. “You wouldn’t if you knew his _dirty little secret,_ ” he mocks, and the Losers look at each other confused. ‘ _No’_ Richie pleads inside his head _‘oh god please no’._ He desperately tries to clamp his mouth shut, to stop any other words from coming out. He doesn’t know how Pennywise knows, but he does know that Pennywise wouldn’t hesitate to spill Richie’s secrets.

“L-Let him go!” Bill yells “w-w-we don’t c-c-care, just l-l-let him go!” Richie briefly admires Bill’s bravery, always the fearless leader; but Richie can’t be sure that he wouldn’t care. That when Bill hears what Pennywise is about to say he won’t just leave him to die. Richie desperately wants to be free from this torture, but no matter what he does, how hard he tries he can’t stop the next words from coming out of his mouth. The words that he can’t even say to himself.

“You don’t care that your little friend here is a dirty little faggot,” he hears and can only watch desperately as the faces of the Losers turn from fear and confusion to a look of dawning realisation. It’s out there now. They _know_ and there’s nothing that Richie can do about it. All he can do is think about how they’re probably going to leave him if he ever escapes from this paralyzed hell. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, but all he can do is watch as his life built up by lies collapses around him. He wishes that he could just close his eyes and look away, but it’s almost like a car crash. Even if he did have the power to look away, he’s not sure if he could. His brain for some irrational sadistic reason is watching the Losers slowly deconstruct their entire mental perception of him with more intensity than he has ever watched anything else in his life.

“No way,” he hears, and he could recognise that voice anywhere. _Eddie._ He can feel the edges of his mouth quirk up in an evil grin. He knows what’s coming next. If his friendship with Eddie hadn’t already been destroyed, it was about to catastrophically implode. _‘Please’_ he pleads to no avail, but he can feel the words coming anyway.

“You’d believe me if you could see what he thinks about you, his _Eddie Spaghetti,”_ he hears himself says mercilessly, spitting Richie’s harmless nickname back in Eddie’s face, coated with maliciousness. Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Richie wishes that he could freeze time, stop it before the inevitable destruction of the best thing Richie’s ever had in his entire life.

“W-what do you mean?” Eddie stutters, breathing heavily as Richie, or at least his body, turns to look him right in the eye. Richie can feel himself laugh and it’s so different to his own. It’s cold, evil. Eddie takes a shaky step backwards.

“How he thinks of kissing you like the pervert he is. _Infecting_ you,” Richie feels his eyes begin to water. He’s finally breaking through just as his deepest, most shameful secret got exposed to the one person he wished would never, ever hear it. He sees Eddie shaking his head, slowly stepping backwards towards the wall while desperately searching for his inhaler blindly. He never takes his eyes off Richie’s. Maybe he’s watching it like a car crash too. Watching as Richie’s life falls apart into an explosive wreck. Richie fights desperately inside, still forced to stare right at Eddie terrified expression. He fights and pleads inside his own mind until he doesn’t.

Everything goes black and he feels himself collapse back onto the floor.

Richie wakes up and feels his head throbbing. He squints in an attempt to clear his slightly blurry vision and slowly starts to see the other Losers come into focus, crowding around him on the floor.

“Richie? Is that you?” Bev asks softly, carefully almost and Richie can sense her fear. Is she afraid of _him?_

“What do you mean? Of course, it’s me?” he asks confused, looking around at the other Losers. Well, the other Losers except for Eddie, who’s backed against the wall desperately pumping his inhaler. His mind is cloudy, he can’t remember how he got on the floor or why Eddie looked like that.

_What happened?_

_______

It’s a couple days later when the Losers are all hanging out in the clubhouse. Richie can tell something is off about them, they’re treating him different, more careful. He still can’t remember what happened at Neibolt, how he ended up all dazed and confused on the floor. He’s lightly swinging in the hammock and can’t help the quiet sadness at being in there alone. He knows something happened with Eddie back at Neibolt, he could remember how off he had seemed. Eddie was the first one to split off from the rest of the group as soon as they left Neibolt, uncharacteristically choosing to walk alone. Despite Richie’s questions nobody had told him what had happened.

“Richie, are you sure you’re alright?” Bev asks for what seems like the millionth time and Richie can’t help but roll his eyes. They were treating him like a child.

“ _Yes_ Bev, now can you please stop asking,” he replies, annoyed, but at least Bev seems to get the message. Richie sees Eddie standing leaning against a post nervously looking between Richie in the hammock and a place on the floor where he was sitting a couple minutes ago. Richie hadn’t noticed him get up and felt a small glimmer of hope that Eddie was going to climb in there with him before noticing his unusually apprehensive expression. “You should really be asking Eds that anyway, what’s got your panties in a twist? Finally decided that I’m the rightful user of the hammock?” Richie teases, forcing down the feelings that want Eddie to be back to normal. The feelings that want Eddie to climb into the hammock with him, just so that they can be touching each other.

“Nothing,” Eddie lies quickly and quietly, but Richie doesn’t accept that as an answer. He’s getting tired of everybody hiding something from him.

“Aw come on, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says and something in Eddie just seems to snap.

“Is it true?” Eddie demands and Richie is taken aback. He must be talking about something that happened at Neibolt. There’s only one thing that Richie can think of that would make Eddie react the way he is but there’s no way he would have _ever_ told Eddie that.

“Eddie!” he hears a couple of the Losers chide and Richie feels a small bitterness in his mouth. The rest of the Losers seemed to be perfectly fine with all keeping their secret.

“What? Is what true?” he asks confused, growing more impatient by the second. Because there’s no way, absolutely no way that the Losers know, that Eddie knows…

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Eddie says with a light laugh, shaking his head while carefully keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling of the clubhouse, obviously deliberately avoiding any attempts an eye contact.

“Remember _what_?” Richie demands.

“That you’re…you know, and that you like me, _like that_ ” Richie hears Eddie say and feels like his stomach has dropped all the way through the floor. He starts to hear a ringing in his ears blocking out the sounds from around him. There’s no way that Eddie could know that, he would certainly never say it voluntarily. How could he know? How could all the Losers know?

Then, the memories start to faintly come back. The memories of being helplessly trapped inside his own body while Pennywise controlled him like a marionette. He could only watch as his deepest secrets were spilled out in front of the Losers and the look on Eddie’s face. That look of fear. How could he ever forget that, it felt like it was going to be burned into his mind forever. He starts feeling dizzy, but it suddenly and aggressively pulled back down to reality when he sees the expectant look on Eddie’s face. What’s he expecting him to do? Deny it? Agree with him and pretend like the thought of everybody knowing doesn’t make him want to run away and never look back?

“I-I-I don’t,” Richie starts, not knowing where he’s going. Then suddenly, he gets overwhelmed by a sudden tsunami of nausea. He feels the vomit rising up in his throat and he scrambles out of the hammock with his hand firmly clamped over his mouth. He rushes past Eddie, refusing to look at any of the Losers; the reality of the situation suddenly hitting him like a train. He tries to climb out of the clubhouse as fast as he possibly can, briefly being forced to use his hand covering his mouth, resulting in him praying to anyone for the vomit not to come. Luckily, he’s able to make his way over to a log before he feels like his guts have been ripped out and spilled all over the ground in front of him. This is also when he feels the hot tears begin to prickle behind his eyes. He harshly tries to wipe them away just as he hears the sound of someone climbing the clubhouse ladder. He whips around just in time to see a head of fiery red hair pop out of the hatch. He watches as her eyes kindly soften as she sees him standing there, defenceless. For some reason he can’t get his legs to run away. It feels like he’s been glued to the ground.

“Richie,” Bev says kindly and Richie can’t stand that expression on her face. She’s looking at him like a lost dog who needs saving. He just wants things to go back to the way before anyone knew. When he was just a trashmouth and it was easy. Nobody tried to get him to talk about his real problems, he just pretended he didn’t have any. He was all for faking it ‘til you make it and he was damn fucking good at faking it.

“Don’t, just don’t okay,” he snaps back at her, anger rising to the surface. “I know that you probably all hate me now, I could tell that you were all acting weird today. So please, just make it easy for me and let me leave. I don’t need your sympathy.” He finally feels his legs start to move again and he walks away. He’s decided that it’s easier if he does it himself before they make him leave anyway. It would be so much more painful if they didn’t allow him a clean break. If they continued to be around him all acting weird and uncomfortable. He stomps off away from the clubhouse through the Barrens but hears Bev try to follow him.

“Richie please, we don’t hate you. I’m sorry that we were all acting weird we were just worried about you,” he hears Bev plead and he finally turns back around to look at her. He knows she’s probably only trying to help but she obviously doesn’t understand that the longer she pretends to be alright, the crueller it’s going to be in the future.

“I don’t need you to be worried about me, I get it, I just want things to be the same as they were but I know they can’t be, so I’m leaving,” he tells her, not understanding why she’s being so persistent. She’s supposed to hate him, to think he’s disgusting and never wanting to talk to him again.

“Richie, I swear they can be. We would never treat you different, not over something like this. Losers stick together remember?” Richie sighs, Bev is being rather persistent if she didn’t actually truly believe what she was saying. She did have a point, they were all called Losers for a reason, if anybody might actually have a chance at accepting him, it would be the Losers. Well, the Losers minus Eddie. Richie saw the look on his face, how he acted back at the clubhouse at the thought of Richie liking him. Eddie would never look at him the same again, never agree to get in the hammock with Richie. He’s lost Eddie.

Lost, ha, that would imply that he ever had him in the first place and at this point that seems like a crazy delusion. The thought that he ever had a chance seems completely laughable now.

“Yeah, Losers stick together” he finally sighs in response to Bev. The Losers are the best friends he’s ever had. The only friends he’s ever had and maybe Richie can at least try to repair his friendship, somehow. Sure, he’s going to have to get over Eddie which definitely seems easier said than done but he can always hope. He may have lost his chance at a friendship with Eddie, but hopefully his friendships with all the rest are salvageable. I mean, they refused to talk about what he had said back at Neibolt, maybe that was a sign that they wanted to keep him as a friend. If they really did think he was disgusting, surely, they would have brought it up, told him that they didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. They were probably trying to protect him from hiding away, which is exactly what he’s doing right now. Maybe they know him better than he thinks they do.

“Richie, come back to the clubhouse,” Bev says but the thought of having to go back in there now makes him feel like he’s going to be sick again. He can’t face them again now, he needs space. Time to gather his thoughts and flush all thoughts about Eddie down the drain, never to be seen again. He just needs a moment to himself, to rearrange his life to fit around his new reality.

“Not today” he tells Bev and she sighs but seems to reluctantly understand. He’s grateful, he doesn’t know how much more talking he can do right now.

“Alright, just promise you’ll show up at the quarry tomorrow like we talked about,” she asks hopefully, and Richie can tell that she’s not going to take no for an answer. He gives her a weak smile and a nod; he can try to be normal and may as well jump in at the deep end.

“Sure,” he agrees, and Bev smiles brightly.

“Great! Well, just know that we all love you Richie, no matter what.” Richie can feel his throat start to close up and tears prickling in his eyes away but this time it’s not from fear; he’s happy. He doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak so he just gives Bev a smile then turns around to walk out of the Barrens and towards his house.

_______

When Richie bikes to the quarry the next day he’s surprised to find all of the Losers already sitting there at the top of the cliff.

“Finally, you’re here. Can we get in the water now?” Stan says, directing that last statement towards Bev. She seems to have been the one making them wait. Richie isn’t sure whether to be grateful or not. On one hand he’s sure she did it as a kind gesture, trying to make him feel included but on the other, this is definitely not helping everything feel normal. Then he sees Bev glance over to him out of the side of her eyes and he realises that she’s probably waiting for him to say something. 

“Sorry I had to make you wait for my gracious presence,” Richie jokes with an overexaggerated bow and is relieved to see some of the Losers laugh. He sees Bev’s shoulders relax very slightly.

“Beep beep Richie,” Bev laughs “let’s just get in the water.” He watches as she looks over at him with a faint smile quirking her lips. The Losers immediately start stripping down and suddenly Richie feels incredibly out of place. He is suddenly overrun with fear that they’re all going to think he’s staring at them like some sort of pervert. Surely, once they realise what’s happening, they’re all going to be uncomfortable around him. Some of them were uncomfortable around Bev at the beginning, she was the only girl after all, but Bev didn’t give a shit what anybody thought about her. She was always first to take a risk, to jump into the water, Richie had always admired that about her. Richie, however, gave far too many shits, not to mention the incredibly important other layer of the fact that he was a _boy. ‘Don’t touch the other boys Richie’_ he hears echoing around inside of his head.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s been awkwardly standing lost inside of his thoughts until Bev walks up to him, seemingly having noticed his hesitation to want to jump in the water and places her hand lightly on his arm. He finally looks around, noticing that most of the Losers have already jumped over the edge. He watches as Eddie, the last of the other Losers to jump, steps up to the edge. Richie can only watch as Eddie takes a final look over his shoulder, locking eyes with Richie for what can’t have been more than a second with an unreadable expression on his face. Before Richie can even begin to understand what he saw in Eddie’s eyes, instinct takes over. _‘It’s disgust. He hates you. He can’t stand the thought of being close to naked with you there to spy on him’._ Richie hates how easily he gives in to the thoughts.

Occam’s razor. The simplest answer is almost always the right one.

He finally focuses his attention back to Bev who is smiling at him sympathetically. It’s the lost dog expression again and Richie feels his stomach roil. He pushes down his anger though, Bev doesn’t deserve it. It’s only then when he suddenly realises that Bev’s not wearing a shirt. He makes sure to make a deliberate effort to look anywhere but down, looking at her makes him feel guilty. Guilty that he doesn’t feel like how he should.

“I’m sorry Bev, but I can’t do it. I can’t get in the water without constantly worrying that they’re all just pretending to be fine but they actually, secretly, can’t stand to be near me,” he finally confesses. As much as he loves Bev and is grateful for her trying to help, she can never really understand what’s he’s going through. He really does believe that she wants the best for him, but he can’t get in the water with the constant worry that everyone, but especially Eddie, is going to think he’s being a pervert; but really, who can blame him? He has every reason to never want to be close to Richie again.

“If that was true, then why did everyone already get in the water?” Bev questions, and Richie supposes that she has a point. He remembers them barely even hesitating to strip down like usual and jump in the water. Well, everyone except for Eddie. Eddie was always the exception, wasn’t he? It’s a cruel joke that the person he wants to be normal the most is being the least normal. As much as he can’t blame Eddie for how he’s acting, it does make him mad. He wishes that he could just go back so that he could just have fun, splash around in the water and avoid all thoughts of what’s happening in Derry. Just to have a small time of freedom away from the mess. Now everything’s a mess, whether its because of Pennywise or not.

“You didn’t see the way he looked over at me, Bev,” Richie says, and it comes out angrier than he intended. His mind is a confusing mess of different emotions. He doesn’t mean to be rude to Bev, but he’s not in the right headspace to be around other people at the moment, least of all Eddie. There’s no way he’s going to be able to go for a swim now, not with all these thoughts clouding his head. He just needs to be alone. Being with the Losers would be a constant remind of the fact that he’s lost control over his biggest secret and the fact that the best thing in his life might be completely fucked because of it. He turns away, heading back to his bike.

“No Richie, stay, please” Bev urges grabbing for his wrist. He shakes her off, climbing onto his bike and pedalling away, refusing to look back. He can hear that Bev is still calling after him, but he tries to tune out her voice. He doesn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next.

On the way home he has to cross the kissing bridge. He can’t help but stop when he sees the carving there, still relatively fresh from when he carved it. That stupid carving a reminder of what he’s lost. Hope. He’s lost his hope that he will ever have a normal friendship with Eddie again. Sure, Richie had always wanted more but looking back he realises how selfish he was. How blind he was that what he had was already more than he deserved. He can feel his anger bubbling up inside him the longer he stares at that carving. It’s like it’s taunting him. In a sudden burst of angry impulse, he pounds his fist against the strong wood and hears a sickening cracking sound from his hand. He’s definitely hurt his hand. He almost laughs when he can hear the sounds of Eddie berating him for being so stupid inside of his head. What was really stupid was carving it in the first place. He should have bottled his feelings up tighter, forced them down so deep that he even he didn’t remember them. Then, maybe, they could never have been used against him and nobody would ever know.

_______

Richie is sitting in his room a couple days later, hand in a brace. He refused to tell his mother what had happened, and she eventually gave it up, chiding him for being stupid, then moving on. He hadn’t attempted to hang out with the Losers again, fearful of what Eddie might say. While reading a comic he is snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his mother’s voice calling his name from downstairs. He rolls his eyes but goes downstairs anyway, bored enough that he’s willing to actually go see rather than yelling back. When he reaches the bottom of the staircase, he’s surprised to see Eddie standing in his door frame.

“Can we talk?” Eddie asks meekly and Richie can feel his stomach churn. He’s dreading what Eddie might want to say to him. He’s probably here to ask Richie to never see him again, that he feels too uncomfortable around him and wants him to stay away from the Losers while he’s there. Richie lets out a quiet breath and decides that it’s better to get it over with now. At least then he knows.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, avoiding the concerned gaze of his mother who has been darting her eyes quickly between the boys, trying to figure out what could have happened. Richie walks over to where Eddie’s standing in the door frame and exits quickly, shutting the door behind him before his mother can say anything. Richie shoves his hands in his pockets. Well, one hand, the cast is too fat to properly fit and instead awkwardly sticks halfway out. Richie has been looking at the ground the entire time, suddenly finding kicking little rocks as he walks down the side of the street fascinating.

“What happened to your hand?” Eddie asks finally, seemingly avoiding what he actually wanted to talk with Richie about. Richie couldn’t tell if he was grateful or not.

“Fell” Richie lies with a shrug. He can’t see Eddie’s face but he’s almost certain Eddie can tell he’s lying. Eddie knew him well, but not as well as he had originally thought. They fall back into an awkward silence as they continue walking, Eddie seemingly giving up on his curiosity. They instinctively make their way in the direction of the Barrens. Finally, after a few long minutes of silence Eddie pipes up.

“So, um, it really is true then,” Eddie says hesitantly, and Richie grits his teeth, his stomach churning. He refuses to be sick. He will get this conversation over and done with.

“Yeah,” he breathes quickly “You know I can’t help it right? I swear to you if I could do anything to stop being the way I am, to stop feeling what I feel, I would right?” he says worriedly, hoping that Eddie knows it’s true. He would never purposefully subject himself to screaming into his own pillow at night wishing he could just be normal like all the other boys. “I mean, some people always say that it’s a choice but-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupts and Richie quickly falls silent “I believe you.” For the first time Richie dares to look up at Eddie’s face and it isn’t mad or disgusted like Richie feared. Instead it’s… kind. Richie relaxes slightly at the sight and for the first time since Eddie showed up at his doorstep, he doesn’t feel the need to vomit. Eddie’s always had a weird effect over him and even though this is probably the worst possible moment for it, Richie can feel his heartbeat pick up slightly in his chest. He forces his eyes away from Eddie’s face and back down towards the ground.

They fall back into a brief silence, one that feels significantly less uncomfortable then the last before Eddie breaks it again.

“I’m sorry for how I acted at the clubhouse,” Eddie says quietly “I should have stayed quiet, it was obvious that you didn’t remember but I was scared and confused and my curiosity got the best of me. I didn’t know if it was one of Pennywise’s tricks or not.” Richie tries taking in what Eddie told him, but his mind is like a broken record _‘scared, scared, scared’._ Was Eddie scared of _him_ of the way he is? Eddie being scared for some reason hurts more than him being disgusted. It isn’t long before Richie can’t take it anymore.

“Scared?” he asks quietly, hating how weak his voice sound. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Eddie snap around to face him suddenly.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t scared of _you._ That was the wrong word,” Eddie rambles apologetically and Richie sneaks a glance over to see Eddie’s face quickly reddening. Richie forces down his mind’s instinctive thought of _‘cute’_.

“It’s ok,” Richie assures then braces himself for what he’s about to say. It’s better to just rip the band-aid off, right? “I get it if you never want to see me again,” Richie says with a huff. Even the idea of it hurts like a motherfucker but he’d probably be better off in the end. Maybe he might actually be able to get over this stupid crush.

“What?!” Eddie exclaims and Richie feels slightly confused.

“Yeah, I mean, if you don’t feel comfortable hanging out or whatever. I saw the way you looked over your shoulder at me at the quarry and if you don’t want me around you anymore that’s fine,” Richie explains, having to try as hard as he can to not let his voice falter on the last part. It was probably the furthest thing from fine, but he better start convincing himself that it is fine immediately.

“Oh shit, no, you think I don’t want to see you again?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Um, yeah…is that not why you came to talk to me?” Richie asks and can feel a small glimmer hope shining through. He’s confused about why Eddie is here now, but it’s probably the most relieved confusion he’s ever felt in his entire life.

“Fuck, Richie, no. When you said, or well Pennywise said, that you liked me back at Neibolt it was like the floodgates in my mind opened,” Eddie says and Richie frowns in confusion “all these thoughts and feelings that I’d never allowed myself to have suddenly all crashed through to the front of my mind and I didn’t know how to deal with all of the emotions. That’s why I was weird at the clubhouse and even at the quarry, because my mind kept telling me that there was no way that you actually liked me back!” Eddie exclaims, his voice gradually getting louder as he went along. Richie’s eyes widen in shock, there was no way that Eddie was saying what Richie thought he was saying. He dares to look Eddie in the eyes and sees them filled with desperate emotions.

“That- That you-” Richie tries, his brain seemingly short-circuiting at the possibility that Eddie was telling the truth. That one of his wildest fantasies might actually be a reality. He watches as Eddie quickly looks around and Richie notices that they had made it right to the edge of town. Eddie seemed to have decided that there was nobody around and before Richie could even process what was happening, he feels Eddie grab his cheeks and pull him in for a quick kiss. Richie thinks he dies right on the spot. He can almost feel his soul leaving his body. His mind that was racing, filling his head with noise and doubt suddenly, graciously, fell silent.

He watches as Eddie’s face heats up again and as he brings his hand nervously to the back of his neck. _‘Cute’_ Richie thinks again but this time, doesn’t force it down. He takes a second to just look at Eddie’s face, admire it. He’s allowed to do that now he’s pretty sure, or at least, allowed to do it with Eddie watching.

“What?” Eddie asks, concerned “is there something on my face?”

“Oh nothing, just thinking about how ugly you are,” Richie teases, the words rolling easily off of his tongue. He’s finally slipping back into his naturally relaxed state where he barely even thinks about the words coming out of his mouth.

“Asshole,” Eddie says, shoving him backwards. Richie hadn’t realised how close they were actually standing until he was no longer there. “Tell me why I like you again?” Eddie jokes and it’s like fireworks are set off in Richie’s head. Eddie _likes_ him, as more than a friend. Richie thinks that he will never tire of hearing Eddie say that. He wants to kiss him again but is highly aware of the fact that they’re still in public and the average person of Derry would probably not be too happy to see two boys kissing each other so openly.

“My devilishly handsome good looks and genius humour?” Richie tries and it met with an exasperated sigh and eye roll.

“Beep beep Richie”

Things finally feel like their getting back to normal. Actually, better than normal. Richie swears that he’s never felt so present and alive other than in this very moment.

“Hey, want to know how I hurt my hand?” Richie asks in a surge of confidence and Eddie looks at him, confused at the abrupt change in subject. “Come on,” Richie says, grabbing Eddie’s hand to drag him after him. Richie feels like his hand is on fire every place that Eddie’s touching. They weren’t very far from the kissing bridge, so it takes them barely any time to get there.

“Ta-da!” Richie says, directing Eddie’s eyes to where he had carved R + E not that long ago.

“You did this?” Eddie asks and Richie nods, proudly. He watches as Eddie carefully traces the letters with his finger. Richie sees Eddie quietly smiling to himself and it fills Richie head to toe with joy. “Wait, but this doesn’t explain how you hurt your hand,” Eddie says confused and Richie realises he’s right. Richie takes a breath in an attempt to ground himself.

“Oh, right, I um, punched it after that day at the quarry when I thought you hated me,” Richie admits, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the thought.

“Well that was stupid,” Eddie teases

“Fuck off,” Richie replies and Eddie laughs. How can just a laugh make make him feel so happy? He’s decided that Eddie’s laugh is one of his favourite sounds in the whole world. Then, because Richie suddenly remembers that he can, Richie takes a few quick glances around just to make sure then pulls Eddie back in for another quick kiss. He’s certain; more certain than he is that the sun is going to rise tomorrow; more certain than the fact that the stars will shine at night; more certain than the inevitability of death; he’s certain that he will never tire of the feeling of Eddie’s lips pressed against his own.

_______

The next day all of the Losers are hanging out in the clubhouse. Richie was lying in the hammock as usual after the Losers had given him a much bigger greeting than usual. It may not be completely back to the way it was with the rest of them yet, but he cuts them some slack. He’s sure most of them were probably worried about him and he was only riding on Bev’s word that they really didn’t care about him being gay.

Gay. Richie was finally able to say it. After he’d gone home yesterday afternoon it was like the unexplainable force holding him back had suddenly disappeared. The thought of Eddie didn’t make Richie want to scream or cry once he had gotten home, he had finally let the feelings of happiness wash over him and for the first time in a long time he felt truly free.

“Alright, shove over,” he hears Eddie say, who is currently looming over the side of the hammock. They had already given up the act like they weren’t just going to end up in the hammock together, despite the protests. Eddie ungracefully made his way into the hammock with a disgruntled yell of “how are you so bony?!” which was met with a laugh by the rest of the Losers.

Richie swears he hears Bev whisper “I’m glad they’re back to normal,” to the other Losers. Normal, ha. All Bev can see is them play-fighting with each other, putting their feet near the others face just like they used to. What she can’t see is the way their hands are lightly linked together on the other side of the hammock constantly reminding Richie of what he’s gained. Richie wouldn’t go back to what used to be his normal for anything. Not when he has something so much better right in front of him.


End file.
